Kath. A light condition in a beauty dark. out. Kath. You'll mar the light, by taking it in snuff;' Therefore, I'll darkly end the argument. Ros. Look, what you do, you do it still i' the dark. Kath. So do not you; for you are a light wench. Ros. Indeed, I weigh not you; and therefore light. Kath. You weigh me not,-O, that's, you care not for me. Ros. Great reason; for, Past cure is still past care. Prin. Well bandied both; a set of wit well play'd. But Rosaline, you have a favour too: Who sent it? and what is it? Ros. I would, you knew · An if my face were but as fair as yours, My favour were as great; be witness this. Nay, I have verses too, I thank Birón: The numbers true; and, were the numb'ring too, I were the fairest goddess on the ground; I am compar'd to twenty thousand fairs. O, he hath drawn my picture in his letter ! Ros. Much, in the letters; nothing in the praise. Ros. 'Ware pencils! How? let me not die your debtor, My red dominical, my golden letter: O, that your face were not so full of O's! Kath. A pox of that jest! and beshrew all shrows! Prin. But what was sent to you from fair Du main? Kath. Madam, this glove. Prin. Did he not send you twain? Kath. Yes, madam; and moreover, Some thousand verses of a faithful lover: A huge translation of hypocrisy, (1) In anger. Vilely compil'd, profound simplicity. Mar. This, and these pearls, to me sent Longa ville; The letter is too long by half a mile. Prin. I think no less: Dost thou not wish in heart, The chain were longer, and the letter short? part. Prin. We are wise girls, to mock our lovers so. Ros. They are worse fools to purchase mocking sa That same Birón I'll torture ere I go. O, that I knew he were but in by the week! And make him proud to make me proud that jests! So portent-like would I o'ersway his state, That he should be my fool, and I his fate. Prin. None are so surely caught, when they are As wit turn'd fool: folly, in wisdom hatch'd, excess, As gravity's revolt to wantonness. Mar. Folly in fools bears not so strong a note, As foolery in the wise, when wit doth dote; Since all the power thereof it doth apply, To prove, by wit, worth in simplicity. Enter Boyet. Prin. Here comes Boyet, and mirth is in his face. Boyet. O, I am stabb'd with laughter! Where's her grace? Prin. Thy news, Boyet? Boyet. Prepare, madam, prepare! Arm, wenches, arm; encounters mounted are' Against your peace: Love doth approach disguis'd, That charge their breath against us? say, scout, say. That well by heart hath conn'd his embassage: I should have fear'd her, had she been a devil. With that all laugh'd, and clapp'd him on the shoulder; Making the bold wag by their praises bolder. Prin. But what, but what, come they to visit us? Like Muscovites, or Russians: as I guess, For, ladies, we will every one be mask'd; Hold, Rosaline, this favour thou shalt wear; And change you favours too; so shall your loves Ros. Come on then; wear the favours most in sight. Kath. But, in this changing, what is your intent? Prin. The effect of my intent is, to cross theirs : They do it but in mocking merriment; And mock for mock is only my intent. Their several counsels they unbosom shall To loves mistook; and so be mock'd withal, Upon the next occasion that we meet, With visages display'd, to talk, and greet. Ros. But shall we dance, if they desire us to't! Prin. No; to the death, we will not move a foot: Nor to their penn'd speech render we no grace; But, while 'tis spoke, each turn away her face. Boyet. Why, that contempt will kill the speaker's heart, And quite divorce his memory from his part. Boyet. The trumpet sounds; be mask'd, the maskers come. [The ladies mask. Enter the King, Biron, Longaville, and Dumain, in Russian habits, and masked; Moth, musicians, and attendants. Moth. All hail! the richest beauties on the earth! Boyet. Beauties no richer than rich taffata. Moth. A holy parcel of the fairest dames, [The ladies turn their. backs to him. That ever turn'd their-backs-to mortal views! Biron. Their eyes, villain, their eyes. Moth. That ever turn'd their eyes to mortal views! Out Boyet. True; out, indeed. Moth. Out of your favours, heavenly spirits, vouchsafe Not to behold Biron. Once to behold, rogue. Moth. Once to behold with your sun-beamed eyes, -with your sun-beamed eyes Boyet. They will not answer to that epithet; You were best call it, daughter-beamed eyes. Moth. They do not mark me, and that brings me out. Biron. Is this your perfectness? be gone, you rogue. Ros. What would these strangers? know their minds, Boyet: If they do speak our language, 'tis our will Boyet. What would you with the princess? Boyet. Nothing but peace, and gentle visitation. Ros. Why, that they have; and bid them so be gone. Boyet. She says,you have it,and you may be gone. King. Say to her, we have measur'd many miles, |